On the threshold of another season

By TOM ORRColumnist

Published: Sunday, September 29, 2013 at 4:30 a.m.

Last Modified: Thursday, September 26, 2013 at 1:32 p.m.

Hendersonville should display, as public art, a rendering of an old-fashioned camera on a tripod as a tribute to the Baker Barber photograph collection. For, without those valuable photographs, we would not know what our town looked like “back then.”

I have viewed B-B pictures taken in years gone by and believe it is possible to frame the story of Hendersonville’s Main Street by identifying the configuration of trees in those pictures. At one time, sycamore trees lined much of Main Street, and checker playing, in the shade beneath their branches in summer, was a popular pastime.

There was a time when trees grew down the middle of Main and on both sides. Over the years, the trees were replaced with younger trees. Each change provided a clearer view of the architecture of historic buildings and a view of the golden dome of the Historic Courthouse.

I travel down Main Street Hendersonville. The serpentine design of today encourages me to drive slowly and respect the pedestrians at bricked crosswalks. It also provides opportunity to view the street’s uniqueness.

There was a time when stores on Main Street shut down in the evening and came alive on Saturday. There was hardly any activity on Sunday. Stores closed on Wednesday afternoons and banks closed at midday.

The new yogurt place (Sweet Frog), on the corner of Second and Main, is bright and cheerful. I particularly like the inside light fixtures. The facility, with its vibrant colors, enhances the corner where once stood the St. John Hotel.

I look forward to the opening of the rooftop restaurant across the street. I want to be one of its first patrons. As I dine with friends, I want to view, from that unique vantage point, the golden dome of the courthouse and its surroundings.

I continue to be impressed by the number of people enjoying Main Street.

I did not anticipate the popularity of the artistic bears that stand at intervals along the way. I frequently observe children hugging a bear or families adopting a bear for a family picture.

I was reluctant to accept the Playhouse Downtown because I did not want to weaken the legacy of Robroy Farquhar. I was wrong. The Playhouse has enhanced South Main Street and downtown Hendersonville. From the Old Mill to Lake Summit to “the Rock,” FRP continues to evolve and offer expanded theater opportunities, a tribute to “Robbie.”

An identifying marker will soon tell the story of “Mountain Memory,” the sculptured water fountain at Sixth Avenue.

I like the concept. The Continental Divide is a ridge line with waters running in two directions — to the Atlantic and to the Mississippi River and on to the Gulf.

I have difficulty, however, with the metaphoric roots that look too much like snakes. There also appears to be a lack of proportion between the base stones and the mountains. The copper mountains appear to be just resting on the stones rather than emerging from the solid stone foundation.

The addition of growing plants at the base has added greatly. I would like to see green moss filling spaces between the stones. Does the omission of Mills River and the French Broad, both falling outside the artistic concept, appear exclusive?

Regardless, I believe that the elements are all there for this art piece to provoke dialogue. Only time will tell. Already individuals are having pictures taken in front of the artist’s work. There will be other places along Main Street for public art. And what about the avenues? One can only wonder what discussion each artistic rendering will provoke.

I leave Main Street and travel out Fifth Avenue until it turns into Laurel Park Highway. I am on my way up the mountain to Jump Off Rock.

The late summer foliage prevents the view along the highway from being fully realized; but there are moments when, through an opening, I can view the spectacle below. I arrive at Jump Off Rock, get out of my car and walk to the familiar site. There is no other person there — just me. I stand on the rock behind the guard rail and try, without success, to take in the view before me.

<p>Hendersonville should display, as public art, a rendering of an old-fashioned camera on a tripod as a tribute to the Baker Barber photograph collection. For, without those valuable photographs, we would not know what our town looked like “back then.”</p><p>I have viewed B-B pictures taken in years gone by and believe it is possible to frame the story of Hendersonville's Main Street by identifying the configuration of trees in those pictures. At one time, sycamore trees lined much of Main Street, and checker playing, in the shade beneath their branches in summer, was a popular pastime.</p><p>There was a time when trees grew down the middle of Main and on both sides. Over the years, the trees were replaced with younger trees. Each change provided a clearer view of the architecture of historic buildings and a view of the golden dome of the Historic Courthouse.</p><p>I travel down Main Street Hendersonville. The serpentine design of today encourages me to drive slowly and respect the pedestrians at bricked crosswalks. It also provides opportunity to view the street's uniqueness.</p><p>There was a time when stores on Main Street shut down in the evening and came alive on Saturday. There was hardly any activity on Sunday. Stores closed on Wednesday afternoons and banks closed at midday.</p><p>The new yogurt place (Sweet Frog), on the corner of Second and Main, is bright and cheerful. I particularly like the inside light fixtures. The facility, with its vibrant colors, enhances the corner where once stood the St. John Hotel.</p><p>I look forward to the opening of the rooftop restaurant across the street. I want to be one of its first patrons. As I dine with friends, I want to view, from that unique vantage point, the golden dome of the courthouse and its surroundings.</p><p>I continue to be impressed by the number of people enjoying Main Street.</p><p>I did not anticipate the popularity of the artistic bears that stand at intervals along the way. I frequently observe children hugging a bear or families adopting a bear for a family picture.</p><p>I was reluctant to accept the Playhouse Downtown because I did not want to weaken the legacy of Robroy Farquhar. I was wrong. The Playhouse has enhanced South Main Street and downtown Hendersonville. From the Old Mill to Lake Summit to “the Rock,” FRP continues to evolve and offer expanded theater opportunities, a tribute to “Robbie.”</p><p>An identifying marker will soon tell the story of “Mountain Memory,” the sculptured water fountain at Sixth Avenue.</p><p>I like the concept. The Continental Divide is a ridge line with waters running in two directions — to the Atlantic and to the Mississippi River and on to the Gulf.</p><p>I have difficulty, however, with the metaphoric roots that look too much like snakes. There also appears to be a lack of proportion between the base stones and the mountains. The copper mountains appear to be just resting on the stones rather than emerging from the solid stone foundation.</p><p>The addition of growing plants at the base has added greatly. I would like to see green moss filling spaces between the stones. Does the omission of Mills River and the French Broad, both falling outside the artistic concept, appear exclusive?</p><p>Regardless, I believe that the elements are all there for this art piece to provoke dialogue. Only time will tell. Already individuals are having pictures taken in front of the artist's work. There will be other places along Main Street for public art. And what about the avenues? One can only wonder what discussion each artistic rendering will provoke.</p><p>I leave Main Street and travel out Fifth Avenue until it turns into Laurel Park Highway. I am on my way up the mountain to Jump Off Rock.</p><p>The late summer foliage prevents the view along the highway from being fully realized; but there are moments when, through an opening, I can view the spectacle below. I arrive at Jump Off Rock, get out of my car and walk to the familiar site. There is no other person there — just me. I stand on the rock behind the guard rail and try, without success, to take in the view before me.</p><p>In a few weeks, the hills and valleys will be ablaze with color.</p><p>Thomas Wolfe's prophecies speak to me through the hints of autumn.</p><p>I stand on the threshold of another season.</p>